Dissolution
by Ahn-Li Steffraini
Summary: When Raistlin loses his memory in an accident, will he be able to cope and recover what he has lost or will frustration with himself keep him from his recovery?
1. Prolog

_**Dissolution**_

A Dragonlance Fan Fiction

By the Miiro

**Rating**: **R** for swearing, violence and a whole lot of angst.

**Summary**: When his memory is lost due to an accident, Raistlin is left to pick up the pieces. Can he, or will the frustration kill him first?

**Author's Note**: A plot bunny that was spawned from Petalwing's Story "How to Hook a Mage" and used with permission from Petalwing. Thanks for helping put one more damn bunny to permanent rest!

This story does not fall into any of the Blue Star Saga, at the moment, although that could change...

* * *

"Be careful what you wish for, you just might get it."   
-unknown

* * *

_**Prolog**_

It had started out just as any other day.

Dalamar had walked up the flights, far too many, to his opinion, but as his Shalafi was quite strict on the use of unnecessary magic, he walked. He sighed, and then pushed the door open to regard his master reading on of his many books on the history of magic. Unlike some other times where Dalamar had found him reading actual spellbooks, Raistlin Majere actually appeared quite absorbed in what he was reading. Quietly, but not too quietly as to startle the human man, Dalamar walked over to stand near him and said, "You asked to see me, _Shalafi_?"

Raistlin looked up, and back at Dalamar. It was at this point that Dalamar noticed the reading glasses on his nose. He blinked for a moment at the out of place item, then watched with vague fascination as Raistlin took them off, rubbed his eyes from the strain, then blinked and smiled very slightly at Dalamar's discomfiture. "Yes, I did," he answered softly, as he usually did. "I need you to do some research for me while I prepare my lab for making a new spell."

Dalamar tried not to look too eager as it would be the first time that Raistlin had included him on anything of this sort. So far his lessons had more or less involved sorting the numerous spell components and making sure books were put back in the right order, as well as some less pleasant tasks. This would be the first real lesson since coming here. "Of course, _Shalafi_, is there any particular spell component to look for... anything in the way of items... of..."

"No, no, and no to whatever you were just about to ask," answered Raistlin, again, seeming vaguely amused. "I need you to actually look for the history in said magic. I need to find something called a 'seed' for spellcasting the highest of magic."

For a moment, Dalamar was confused, "Seed?"

"Yes, the kernel of every spell," said Raistlin, his voice almost taking a rote tone, as if he recited an older lesson from his own days as an apprentice from memory. "Every spell can be broken down to its very simple core, beyond the words required to cast, beyond any spell components, the very root of the spell. The originating 'seed'. Only once each seed is identified can even higher spells be made and created."

The apprentice was fascinated as this had been the first that he had ever heard of it. Dalamar filed it away for future use, not only for use in researching for Raistlin's current need, but also in case he ever wanted to create his own unique spells. "I think I understand, _Shalafi_," said Dalamar, rolling the concept around in his head and wrapping his mind around it. "I shall endeavor to do as you ask... how quickly to you need it?"

Raistlin drummed his long golden fingers on his stone lab table, "Of that I am not sure. By far, I am not ready to even begin research on new, and high level, spells until each and every spell seed that I need is found..." he made a dismissive gesture. "It would take me years to do so anyway, but as quick as you can. I will be researching the same thing, but I require the aid."

"I am happy to help you in that respect, _Shalafi_, honored even," said Dalamar, barely containing the eagerness at not only doing something for Raistlin, but also doing the research beside him, almost as an equal. "When do we start?"

"Immediately."

* * *

Yes, it's short, but I had to get the general background of what the two were doing at the point of the accident without going into it all. 


	2. Chapter One

* * *

Chapter One

* * *

Dalamar walked up the stairs to his _Shalafi_'s study, already well on his way of researching what Raistlin had asked of him. He pushed the door open and walked over to the desk that if he sat on the other side, depending on what Raistlin was doing, the two of them could share space on it. At the moment, and Dalamar had to look twice to confirm what his eyes were seeing, it appeared that Raistlin had decided to take a book to the couch near the fireplace and sit there and read.

Except said book was in his lap, his eyes were closed, and his head was leaning on the back of the couch. His legs stretched in front of him and resting on a stool, and he leaned to the side, with one arm resting on the book, and the other limply beside him.

There was no doubt it Dalamar's mind that his _Shalafi_ had fallen asleep where he sat, it was just that Dalamar was flabbergasted at the sight. Raistlin had, again, worked himself into an exhaustion so complete that sleep had stolen over him mid activity. All in all, it was a sight. The great and fearsome archmagus... sleeping like a baby on a warm couch. Dalamar left him to sleep and decided that if he woke, he would rather be discovered doing what he supposed to be doing and not gaping at the sight.

But seeing him like that reminded the Dark Elf how very young the human Raistlin Majere really was. According to the human standards, mused Dalamar, he had not even reached middle age. He wasn't even thirty. He was the most powerful wizard to walk Krynn, but he was also very terribly young to have done so. He sighed and turned back to his own book.

A deep breath from the couch sounded, then Raistlin began to cough and gasp for breath. Dalamar, recognizing Raistlin's fits, set the book down and ran for his tea. Tea made with water conjured he brought it to his _Shalafi_ who sipped it, then took bigger mouthfuls. His cough calmed and soon the fit ended as Raistlin wiped his mouth. "What did you find?" he asked in a low whisper, lower than usual.

"I found another book on what you asked," said Dalamar. "However, I can find nothing specifically on Spell Seeds, _Shalafi_."

"Nothing specifically?" Raistlin's brow furrowed as he stood up and walked slowly to his desk, the sleep still clinging to him and making his movements slightly jerky and unsteady. "But you have found _something_?"

Dalamar blinked before showing him the passage in the book. Raistlin took the book and began to read where his apprentice had indicated. His eyes thinned a bit, but not in any displeasure, more in concentration. Raistlin set the book down, rubbing his eyes, and Dalamar said as he looked out the window, "The hour is very late, _Shalafi_, and you do look rather tired... I do not mean to sound out of place or above my place, but perhaps you should rest?"

Raistlin looked up at his apprentice, then, as Dalamar held his breath for the tongue lashing to come... and didn't, Raistlin quietly agreed, "You are right, Dalamar."

Raistlin stood, a bit shakily, and Dalamar grasped his elbow to steady him, a slight smile on his face, "At least about this? Here, let me help you..."

Again, but Dalamar supposed it was due to Raistlin's exhaustion, he didn't say anything but allowed Dalamar to guide him to his bed chambers that were right beside the study. Dalamar then left him to his rest and closed the door. He walked back over to the desk and began to read and take notes so that in the morning he would have something more to show Raistlin. A few hours later, and very tired himself, Dalamar stood up from the desk and pushed open the door to look in on his Master. Raistlin was lying on his side, but Dalamar could clearly see from the light of the fire that he was deeply asleep. Dalamar quietly closed the door again before walking up the flight of stairs to his own bedroom to sleep.

* * *

Raistlin Majere woke the next morning to a cold fireplace that had died down in the night, buried under the layers of heavy quilts and brocade blankets. His mind still seemed a bit large for his head, a sure sign that last night he had simply over did it... again... and his whole body protested when he feebly pushed himself up into a sitting position with his legs over the side of the bed. The blankets still have wrapped around him, he took stock of the situation.

One very tired mind that still screamed for sleep... check. A body, as frail as it was normally, still screaming for more sleep, yes, definitely in agreement with his head. He looked out the window to see where the sun was to gauge how late he had slept in. With a sigh, and noting how high the sun was in the sky, he knew it was around noon. He made one feeble motion to get up, and then flopped back into the down filled bed, covering himself as he did so, legs still over the side of the bed. _One more minute_, he cajoled himself. _I've already slept the morning away. What could one... more._..

With a final yawn, Raistlin was asleep again, one arm stretched out toward the head of the bed, half rolled in that direction and his blankets wrapped around him. When he next opened his eyes, the sun was still high in the sky, but his own internal sense of time told him that at least an hour more had been spent lazing in bed.

He sat up, his mind feeling a bit more back to normal, and even though he was still frail, at least this time around he didn't feel like falling right back to sleep again. He got up, dressed and did what every human male needed to do in the morning to get themselves ready for the day before walking out into his study. Dalamar was already there, and curse the elf for not needing as much sleep as he did, appeared to have been there all morning. "Did you sleep well, _Shalafi_?" he asked. "You were quite tired last night."

"I slept," answered Raistlin simply. "Somewhere in my sleep fogged mind, I recall you saying you found a book with something about the Spell Seeds in it?"

"Ah yes, this one..."

And so the rest of the day went, except when Dalamar would disappear for about an hour and return with food and drink. Raistlin nibbled on the fruit while reading the book that Dalamar had found. Finally, with the sun again long since set, Raistlin wisely called it a day before he could end up in the same exhausted state he had been in last night. "First, apprentice, I want you to go up to my lab and bring me the jar of Hisoria."

Dalamar got up and exited the study. He fairly jogged up the steps, pushed open the door to the largest lab in the Tower, then ran carefully, but quickly down the stairs. As he was about to push open the door he heard a muffled, "_Shit...!_"

Then an extremely loud crash as something heavy hit the floor and sounded like it shattered all over the floor. Dalamar pushed the door open in alarm to regard the damage.

Raistlin lay on the floor behind his desk, a chair overturned, and a bookshelf was laying on the floor, seemingly as if it had been pulled down... Dalamar set down the jar on his _Shalafi_'s desk and ran around the desk to see how badly Raistlin was hurt. He gingerly rolled Raistlin over onto his back as Raistlin moaned a little. Quickly grabbing the cloth out of Raistlin's pocket, he held it to stop the bleeding from the severe cut on Raistlin's right temple. He then looked up, seeing the room from that angle.

And put two and two together as he pieced together events that led up to him finding Raistlin lying on the floor with a nasty cut to his head. First, Dalamar saw where Raistlin had hit his head... on the corner of his own desk. He could see where the blood shone on the dark wood. Then he saw the bookshelf laying on the floor... and the broken chair. He cursed the accident.

It came too clear. He could see Raistlin taking one of his chairs to stand on to reach, like he had so many times in the past, the top shelf for a book. The leg had snapped under his weight, meaning that the chair would have likely broken anyway had anyone sat on it. In his desperation to stop the fall he had grabbed hold of the shelf, but the motion of falling had already been set in motion, and he only pulled the shelf down after him. The force of the fall sent him down, and his head connected with his desk to land where he lay, unconscious, on the floor.

Dalamar quickly checked for other injuries, but besides the sprained or broken left wrist, and the blow to the head, he couldn't find any. Dalamar braced and wrapped his wrist, then bandaged his head before taking the risk of moving him. Raistlin was a dead weight in his arms, although he was breathing. Dalamar laid the man in his bed and then waited.

The sun came up and morning dawned before Raistlin rolled his head to the side with a low moan and cracked his eyelids open. Dalamar moved to his side quickly and anxiously asked, "_Shalafi_? Are you all right?"

"My head hurts..." he murmured holding his right hand to his head. "So does my wrist..."

"I can only imagine," mused Dalamar. "Tell me, how did you manage to fall? I only heard you shout in alarm then came in to find you on the floor..."

Raistlin blinked twice slowly. "I don't know..."

Dalamar was a bit startled at the alarm and... he could even say he saw fear... in Raistlin's eyes. "_Shalafi_...?"

"I don't know..." Raistlin murmured again. "Tell me... is _Shalafi_ my name? It sounds... elven..."

Dalamar sucked in a breath. "_Shalafi_... no... it isn't... it's what I call you. It means 'Master' in Silvanesti. But it isn't your name. Do you not know your own name?"

That look of fear crept into Raistlin's eyes again and he whispered even lower, "No... I don't. I don't even know where I am..."

* * *

Dalamar had to leave then. He could not stand to be in there. After he managed to regain his composure, he set about doing what he had claimed he was leaving to do; find something to help Raistlin's headache and wrist pain. He also wanted to find something, anything, about head injuries. He felt extremely out of his league, but when he came back, he was the very picture of calm and control as he brought in a tray with a bowl of thin soup, a mug of Raistlin's tea, and a phial of willow bark that he had read up on. While most healers used the bark as a fever reducer, it was also just as useful as a painkiller and an anti-inflammatory. He set the tray down on the night stand beside the bed and helped Raistlin into a sitting position with the pillows propping him up.

"What is that smell?" asked Raistlin.

"That's your tea, _Shalafi_... Raistlin..." said Dalamar. "Oh, I should mention... your name is Raistlin Majere. You are the most powerful archmagus on Krynn... does any of that sound familiar to you?"

Raistlin mouthed his own name and the information, although paraphrased into, "Raistlin... Majere... I'm an archmage... the most powerful there is..."

Dalamar held his breath. "No, it does not," Raistlin then said and Dalamar felt as if something had deflated within himself. "This upsets you? Why?"

"You're my teacher, my Master. I am your apprentice..." Dalamar waited for some sort of recognition but was rewarded with nothing. "My name is Dalamar... Dalamar Nightson."

Raistlin blinked but shook his head, "No, I'm sorry. I don't remember you."

Dalamar sighed and ran a hand through his dark hair, then brightened, knowing that quite often patients tended to pick up on the moods of their caretakers. It was left up to him to make sure his _Shalafi_ returned to health, and would be his own failure if Raistlin did not. Finally Dalamar used a small table as a tray to serve Raistlin's meal on. For a moment Raistlin looked at everything as he tried to place it. "It is strange. I feel I should know, should recognize all of this, but I cannot."

Dalamar smiled a bit, "Don't worry, _Shalafi_, I am sure it will come in time. Eat your soup and drink your tea."

Slowly, Raistlin began to eat. About halfway through the soup he stopped with a simple, "I've had enough..."

Dalamar took the opportunity to fix one flaw he had always worried about, "But you've eaten half. I'm half your size, and we elves never eat as much as human men, but you've only eaten half of what I would eat..."

Raistlin looked at him strangely, but continued to eat. Finally there was nothing left and he also finished his tea. With a sour look on his face he asked, "Did I like that stuff?"

"No, but you always needed it, and likely still do," said Dalamar. "You have always been rather frail, and after your Test your lungs developed some sort of illness, from what you've told me, that the tea helps relieve."

Dalamar then handed him the phial, "Now, I would like you to take two swallows of that..."

Raistlin did so, and his sour look returned, "That's even worse than the tea..."

"Yes... I would imagine so," mused Dalamar as he took the small table. "Now, you try to rest. That willow bark should help with the pain and bring down the swelling. I looked at your wrist while you were unconscious and it does not appear to be broken. But, when the swelling goes down, I would like to take another look at it."

Raistlin gingerly touched his bandaged left wrist, tried to move it, gasped with the sudden pain, but said, "No... it's only sprained. How... do I know that?"

"Another part of your past you have never told me about," admitted Dalamar. "Though I have heard rumors that you were a healer before you became a mage. Or something like that. Perhaps that would be it."

"Perhaps," mused Raistlin, before he yawned.

Dalamar helped him ease back into the pillows and back into a laying position, "Now, I think you need rest. Sleep heals, and from the look of things you could use plenty of it."

Raistlin nodded his head, winced from the pain the motion caused and relaxed into his pillows as Dalamar pulled the blankets up over his shoulders to under his neck. "Rest well, _Shalafi_."

Raistlin didn't respond as sleep had again taken him as soon as he closed his eyes.

* * *


	3. Chapter Two

* * *

Chapter Two

* * *

The next day, Dalamar poked his head into his Shalafi's bedchamber, but only heard the even breathing of a man still deep in slumber. He had read up last night and this morning about head injuries from a book borrowed from the Great Library. What was read within caused more worry even as it dissolved others.

Sleep was normal, and it looked like sleep would likely be all that Raistlin would feel like doing for the next _week_, maybe even more. Maybe then, once all the sleep had allowed the injury in his head to heal perhaps his memory would start to come back in little fragments, but, and this was cause for even Dalamar to panic if it got to that point, there was no guarantee that his Shalafi would regain all of his memory, or even part of it. There was an equal chance of him simply having to 'start all over' again in life.

Dalamar rather suspected, given Raistlin's patience with things normally, how this turn out.

Raistlin would simply give up, and quite possibly take it as a sign from the Gods that perhaps it just had not been meant to be and simply withdraw from the magic, withdraw from whatever ambition he had held so close to his own heart for so long (mostly since he would not even remember what it was anymore...) and maybe even go back to Solace.

If he remembered where Solace was and what it was supposed to mean to him, anyway. Dalamar well remembered that conversation earlier in the morning when he had brought Raistlin breakfast...

* * *

"_Shalafi_?" called Dalamar quietly.

The lump in the bed shifted and Raistlin rolled over to sleepily face his apprentice that stood in his doorway and held a tray with a steaming bowl on it. "Yes?" he asked, blinking his eyes in vague confusion.

"I thought you might like some breakfast," he began, laying the tray on the bed stand as Raistlin pushed himself up into a sitting position. "How is your head this morning?"

"Sore," answered Raistlin honestly. "I still have a headache, but the pain isn't so bad as it was last night."

"Good," said Dalamar. "That means you're feeling better. I bet you haven't had this treatment since you left Solace."

"Since I left where?" asked Raistlin.

Dalamar paused then. "You... you were born and raised in a small town in Abanasinia... it was called Solace. You had family there."

Honestly, Dalamar rather suspected that her perhaps still had family there, but he had no way of knowing for sure. It was safer to assume that his family, like him, had simply moved on or were all dead. Raistlin had been extremely closed about where his family was or who they were. Par-Salian had told Dalamar of a possible brother or a sister, but the sister was a Dragon Highlord and was definitely not still in Solace and brother was known for also taking mercenary jobs as well. Par-Salian had also told him that Raistlin's parents were long dead and he didn't know of any other family that the archmagus might have...

Dalamar had begun to poke his nose into his _Shalafi's_ notes for mention on the sister since she seemed to be the better lead but he had yet to even find mention of even her name. So far, the only record in the sketchy records of the Dragonarmies from that war of a Majere was Raistlin himself. No other had been found.

Raistlin seemed to struggle to remember but in the end shook his head, "I... barely remember trees. Big trees. A woman I think may have been my mother and always worrying about her."

"Anything else?"

"No."

No other prodding had been able to shake loose a more recent, or even specific, memory than that.

Little did Dalamar realize that his questioning had also attracted attention...

* * *

A man in leather armor spoke to a guard at the door, warily eyeing the latest eruption from the volcanoes that surrounded Neraka. Finally, he was allowed in where a woman who was pacing could be seen. She wasn't dressed at all and there was another man hurriedly dressing himself as he left with a nasty look in the first man's direction. Clay didn't let this affect him.

At first the Dark Elf's question about another possible Majere in the Dragonarmy didn't ring any bells. His scant records that he had kept for Ariakan he had burned before the Solamnics could use it for evidence against him. As it was, he had been banned from certain parts of Solamnia.

It was his photographic memory that served him however, this memory that did not need written documents simply because he could remember things without having to be asked or told about it once, even in passing. A memory that could remember what Ariakan had eaten that morning the Half-Elf had betrayed them for the Golden General... and a memory that once the right push had been given remembered what connection the name 'Majere' had with Tanis... and led him to the Blue Lady herself as another connection.

Which was why he was here now. He saluted and said, "Lady Kitiara Uth Matar, General of the Blue Dragonarmy, I am glad you found time to meet with me."

"Cut the crap and tell me what was so bloody important that I had to cut more enjoyable pursuits to actually see you," said the dark haired nude woman as she leisurely dressed in her clothing and dragon scale armor.

"I had an interesting conversation with a Dark Elf, my lady. One that appears to be about your brother..." he began, and she yawned.

"So what?"

"The Dark Elf was looking for possible relatives of Raistlin Majere..." Clay smiled slightly. "It appears that there was some sort of accident in the Tower of High Sorcery and that Master Majere was gravely injured."

Kitiara lifted an eyebrow and leaned forward, "Now, that's news. Sick I expected. On death's door, that would have hardly moved me one way or the other. But Raistlin never gets 'gravely injured'. The Dark Elf say anything about what happened?"

A black robed woman moved at the side, "Indeed, hearing about an archmagus being injured is interesting rumor, one that cannot be confirmed. But the existence of such a rumor bears investigating."

Kitiara turned to the woman, "There are days I wish you wouldn't sneak around like that."

The Black Robe simply shrugged, "It is how I learn most of my news."

Kitiara made a gesture clearly meaning 'get on with it' as she settled into her chair. Clay continued, "I believe the Dark Elf was trying to get information on family to 'jog his _Shalafi's_ memory'. It appears that Majere fell, struck his head, and may not remember who or even what he is."

Both Kitiara and the Black Robe jumped at this, but the Black Robe seemed far more interested when she asked, "How did you come by this?"

"Well, the Dark Elf suggested it in the way he was asking questions," answered Clay. "He asked about if there was another Majere in the dragonarmy. I asked why and wouldn't Raistlin be better equipped to answer that, and he said, 'My _Shalafi_ is unable to.' I naturally asked why that would be and if the archmagus was dead and the elf promptly told me in no uncertain terms that he was most certainly alive but abed after a rather nasty fall. I simply put two and two together."

The Black Robe and Kitiara looked at each other for a moment. Both had their uses for one very powerful archmage and no memory. The Black Robe left in a swirl of robes, gone as if she had never been. Clay had heard that wizards could come and go as if on air, but seeing one disappear into thin air was a bit startling. Kitiara frowned, then motioned to Clay, "Tell me, did you catch this Dark Elf's name?"

"I believe it was Dalamar..."

* * *

The Black Robe materialized in her lab at Wayreth, packing a few essentials that she would need for the trip to Palanthas, secretly gloating over her fortune. It would likely take Kitiara a few days to organize, but she still had to move swiftly as Kitiara had her dragon Skie. Finally, with a few final touches Ladonna was ready for her ultimate victory.

Raistlin winding up with no memory about himself was more than simply fortunate for Ladonna, it was the boon she had been begging Nuitari to give her for years. She knew he was a more powerful wizard than she but also knew that with the right push the power struggle present at the Conclave would forever be in her hands.

All she had needed was the right weight on the balance and an amnesiac Raistlin Majere was that weight she needed.

Her things packed she cast the spell that would take her to Palanthas for her best deception yet... the Aunt that Raistlin never knew he had...

* * *

Kitiara also packed her things in a frenzy, the sleepy Clay watching from the bed as she packed and dressed in her armor. He was suitably rewarded, a satisfying tumble with the loose, but hard to get, Blue Lady and a heavy pouch full of steel coin for his information. He knew that he would be hard challenged to survive getting out of Neraka but he was sure he could pull it off. He remained as he was, pretending to be asleep until she was gone then slid out of the bed, made it look like he was still in the bed, took his sword and hid.

On cue Kitiara's lieutenant came in and plunged his blade into the lump he thought was Clay, then pulled back the covers to slit his throat. The look on the man's face was priceless. Even more priceless when Clay reached out and opened him up from gut to neck to silence any cries of warning before they could be made. Clay then put the man in the bed after stripping him of his clothes. Dressing in the discarded armor that the man had left the night before and strapping on the man's own sword after cleaning it, Clay said, "I find it highly ironic that I got more from the Blue Lady than you did. See ya around, mate. Too bad it didn't work out..."

With that he simply walked out of the front door unchallenged and unharmed. It would a few hours before anyone bothered to check the Blue Lady's room and by then Clay would be miles away and unable to be tracked.

Sometimes it simply paid to be a little bit smarter than the average mercenary...

* * *

Dalamar paced in his Shalafi's study. His research had turned up nothing and he was beginning to wonder if perhaps he had simply heard wrong. A spectre appeared and said, "A woman is here claiming to be the Shalafi's aunt. Shall I turn her away?"

His aunt? Dalamar turned in surprise and said, "Did she give a name?"

"Marinda Talvines," answered the spectre as Dalamar mouthed the name, his brow knitting. "She claims its his mothers side, as she's Rosamun Talvines Uth Matar Majere's younger sister."

First, Dalamar started at this. Rosamun Majere had definitely been a name that he had run across in Raistlin's earlier journals on his childhood as the name of his mother. Another was the name Uth Matar.

Of course.

The Blue Lady, his half-sister. Dalamar mentally slapped himself on his forehead for missing such an obvious clue, "No, let her in. Treat her as a guest and bring her up here. Tell her that his condition is grave, though, and he will likely not know or remember who she is if they have ever met."

The spectre disappeared and Dalamar suddenly realized that if it had slipped to one relative more would show. Abyss, there would also be people claiming him as a relative to milk the unfortunate archmagus for steel and other comforts so long as Raistlin did not actually remember if they were family or not.

Either way, Marinda deserved investigating. A few moments later, after seeing that guest rooms, with suitable locks on them and other areas also not to be seen by laypeople were also locked off, he greeted the woman.

Ladonna held in a breath as Dalamar swept in, obviously hurried and distracted. Then again, if Ladonna's own master had injured himself enough to lose his memory she could imagine the feeling. The magical skin cream and other ointments on her served to change her appearance and she had dyed her hair a grey auburn. It hurt to see her perfect hair with a single silver hair, but if she appeared too young the deception would be up too swiftly. Dalamar gave a slight bow as he walked in and she inclined her head.

Ladonna had done her research. Rosamun had been a Solamnic lady before eloping Gregor Uth Matar and allowing him to take her to Solace and far from the Palanthian pampering she was used to. It took only a little bit of acting to achieve the Palanthian House Matriarch attitude and a dress that would have paid for numerous of the better houses in Solace to achieve her aim. Dalamar took in the obvious money and bearing, and bowed a little lower, "Lady Talvines. It is an honor and a surprise to find you willing to step onto these grounds."

"Nonsense, Apprentice," she stated, her usual accent that would gave given her away in a second covered by the differently cultured one. "I can see by my nephew's belongings in even a lowly guest room that this Tower is befitting a noble Lord once one gets past that horrible grove. And it is an effective method of keeping the ignorant masses at bay."

Dalamar's eyebrows lifted slightly. Well, if attitude was a measure of relation, he could definitely see where Raistlin got his superiority complex...

* * *

**A/N**: And we'll leave it there or the story will be all finished in a few long chapters... I don't think this story will be as long as others I've written, but we'll see. 


	4. Chapter Three

* * *

Chapter Three

* * *

Dalamar showed Lady Talvines around the next morning. She seemed interested enough but asked some rather interesting questions. After awhile, when a spectre appeared, she recoiled from it. Dalamar reassured her, "Do not worry, as a guest they will not harm you."

He then turned irately to the spectre, "What do you want?"

"The Master is awake," it answered. "As instructed, I have come to tell you when he awoke."

"Very well," sighed Dalamar as it disappeared again, and he turned to Marinda. "Your nephew is awake, my lady. I should see to him so that he is in the best possible condition to meet with you."

"Oh, nonsense!" she chided him and then with a small imperious wave of her hand. "Lead me to my nephew. I mean no offense but you are not family and I am by far not embarrassed to see him the way he is. I came because I heard he was ill, or injured... and to visit his bedside. His 'best' I am certainly not expecting at all."

Dalamar inclined his head and said, "This way, then. But be warned, he is not expecting you and my _Shalafi_ has never accepted visitors before and I am not sure how exactly he will take this..."

She simply accepted this as he led her down the stairs to the entrance to his _Shalafi_'s study. Pushing open the door and stepping aside for her as she entered the opulent room, he watched for signs of Raistlin. Seeing none he figured that Raistlin must have been still in his room. He walked to the other door to the sleeping chamber and knocked upon it. A soft voice answered, "Dalamar? Is that you?"

"Yes, _Shalafi_– Raistlin, it is," answered Dalamar as he opened the door a crack to peer inside.

Raistlin sat on the edge of his bed, still in his sleeping clothes, looking around in vague confusion. Dalamar opened the door the rest of the way and asked, "How are you feeling this morning, Raistlin?"

"Better, I think," answered Raistlin. "But I still have no recollection of who I am other than what you've told me..."

Dalamar sighed, but before he could announce her, Marinda Talvines barged in by pushing him out the way and into the wall inside the room. Once she stood in there, she looked on her nephew and he looked back in confusion. "Do I... know you?" he asked noting the look of recognition on her face. "Should... I know... you?"

She made a faint clicking noise using her tongue before sweeping to the side of the bed and sitting upon it beside him, draping one arm around his thin shoulders and her other hand patted his. "Now... don't you worry about it one bit, my poor, poor dear..." she soothed. "I'm sure that between the two of us..." she glanced at Dalamar pointedly who had the grace to look somewhat confused himself... "we can help jog your memory. That's what family is for!"

Raistlin blinked in confusion, "Family? Who are you? You must forgive me but..."

"...Oh..." she sighed patting his hand once more. "Don't worry about a thing, pet. Dalamar explained it all to me last night when I arrived. But, as you said, you don't know me. Oh, my poor dear... forgive my manners. I was just so excited to finally meet you... my name is Lady Marinda Talvines. I am your mother's younger sister. I was so grieved when she left Palanthas... but that is neither here nor there, and all that matters is that I'm here at Rosie's son's side to help him heal."

Raistlin looked from Dalamar to Marinda then back to Dalamar again, "You're my aunt? We're family?"

"Oh yes..." she said. "Rosamun, once you get that memory back, was your mother. She fell in love with a... well... I guess he was rather dashing... a former Knight of Solamnia. He bore her away in the middle of the night. We never did find out what happened until long after sweet Rosie's death... Mother and Father did not want me to search for you but I did anyway. After my hired tracker picked up Gregor Uth Matar's trail, it was only a matter of time before he found Solace, a village in the trees..."

"...Solace..." Raistlin said as if tasting the name. "...Home..."

"...Er... I suppose it would be for you but your mother was a Palanthian Lady of noble birth," explained Marinda. "And I am not surprised in the least that her son lives and carries himself with the bearing of a noble lord. I see so much of your mother in you... you look... so much like her in your frame and shape of your face. So much of the Talvines blood is in your veins that I can see it when you move."

She patted his hand again, "You, my dear, come from a very high born family and should be cared for as such. That is why I came."

Raistlin stared at her with wide eyes, then allowed himself to be drawn into her embrace as she stroked his white hair. "Aunt Marinda..."

"Don't worry about a thing, pet, Auntie Mari will make it all better," she cooed softly into his hair so that only he could hear.

Inwardly, Ladonna gloated. It had been so easy to insinuate herself in and neither of them suspected a thing. Dalamar excused himself, likely embarrassed by the family bonding. Ladonna smiled as he left and continued to stroke Raistlin's hair. He had relaxed significantly and she highly suspected he was sleeping in her arms. A quick glance down confirmed her suspicions. A momentary maternal instinct kicked in that even she had a difficult time dispelling. _He's so needy_, she mused. _I could have told him the truth but still been supportive and mothering and he would have melted into my arms the same way_...

It made her wonder what the difference was between what she was doing and what Caramon had done. Oh wait, she knew. She was there when he needed it and left him alone when he needed it. She alone more than anyone understood what he went through for his magic. Ladonna inwardly smacked herself. _What are you doing, you silly old woman? Keep to the plan and don't let yourself get attached. Let him get attached to you and he'll bend to your will to receive more_...

A part of her clenched, the part that felt she had missed something without any children of her own. Granted, he was not hers but as part of the 'Marinda Talvines' false identity he was very close without his actual mother being there. And from what she understood he did not really have a stable maternal figure to identify with. There was only Kitiara, and what a joke in maternal roles she was, or Rosamun. And Rosamun had always been trapped in her visions to actually give Raistlin anything... or any of them anything actually. Ladonna's eyes thinned. She could be what he needed. She could mold him. There was little chance of his memory ever coming back and what more could she ask for than a son who was her equal in the magic? A cold grin spread across her face as she laid him down in his bed. "Ah... Raistlin... in more ways than one you have been the answer to my prayers..." she murmured as she pulled the blankets up around him to tuck them around his shoulders.

* * *

In truth, Dalamar had not left the room out of embarrassment or to give them a 'moment'. He had retreated to figure out how to go from here. Lady Talvines had taken over so smoothly and so quickly that there had been no time for him to even object. And Raistlin had even let her!

Then again, she had not given Raistlin any time to object before launching into 'oh my poor dear' and 'my pet'. Raistlin had been ambushed by the woman and drawn into her embrace so quickly that Dalamar rather suspected that he had not realized what was happening until it was too late. But, even still, she was his Aunt and he was her nephew. It was family business...

The delicate chiming of bells signaled that they had another visitor and a spectre appeared in the study, "There is another at our gates claiming relation to the Master."

"Who is it this time?" asked Dalamar irately.

"The Blue Lady, the Dragon Highlord Kitiara Uth Matar," explained the spectre. "She claims that she is his half sister..."

Dalamar spoke words of magic and reappeared in the gardens where they grew their spell components. On the other side of the gate where 'guests' could stand without fear of retribution from the guardians in the grove or the spectres on the other side of the gate, stood a woman in blue dragon armor. She held her dragon helm to one side, and held on hand easily on the hilt of her sword. She had short curly black hair, tan skin, and a trim and lithe body. She held herself with an easy assurance that Dalamar was only familiar in seeing on men, but still seemed feminine at once. She was intoxicating.

She was also very angry indeed.

"I demand you let me in to see my little brother!" she yelled at Dalamar as soon as he materialized in the garden.

"How do I know you're who you claim to be?" he asked, undaunted.

"Because Raist gave me this!" she held up the nightjewel, an item that would let those Raistlin invited in pass through the Shoikan Grove unharmed.

Dalamar gestured and the locks on the gate released. She pushed herself through them to slam them shut with a clang as she stalked to stand in front of him barely two inches away. Crossing her arms and holding her helm so that the spikes on it dug into him as she held it by the straps, she said, "Now... where is he?"

"Just so we make ourselves clear," he began, speaking evenly. "I am not to be intimidated. Unlike you, I can call on the spectres to throw you out or to kill you. Just so we are clear... so, if you would please, remove your helmet from poking holes in my chest!"

Her eyebrows lifted in surprise, but the helmet was removed and he was rewarded with a crooked smile. "My, aren't we a little spitfire?" she said, marginally friendlier. This tone Dalamar was familiar with as Raistlin often used it when he was trying to be civil but not quite succeeding. "Now... my brother?"

"Is with your aunt," he answered evenly and was regarded with surprise as the smile disappeared off her face.

"Our what?" her tone was flat.

"Your aunt... Lady Marinda Talvines," he answered. "Lady Rosamun's younger sister..."

Her eyebrows lifted in shock, "Mother had a younger sister...?"

"You didn't know?" asked Dalamar, suddenly suspicious.

"No. I did not know about it, and I suspect neither does Raistlin," she said. "Nor Caramon. Those buffleheaded fools! Take me now! She's likely a charlatan!"

As he led her up the stairs to Raistlin's study he had a momentary thought that, if not for the resemblance, Kitiara could have been the charlatan and not the other way around. Opening the door for Kitiara and moving aside as he didn't want to be pushed into yet another wall, he allowed her to precede him into the study. Her eyes fell on the door and she walked up to it. He watched her pause, her fingers mere inches from the doorknob. "Dalamar?" she asked. "If this woman isn't a charlatan... this will change things for my entire family."

"I know," he said.

In truth, given Raistlin's condition, everything had changed anyway. She pushed open the door and for the first time since he had met her, she moved quietly and calmly, almost pensively into the room. He heard the small gasp of surprise, and the mild curse, from Kitiara and a murmured, "Good heavens!" from Marinda.

He walked in and introduced them, "Lady Talvines, this is Highlord Uth Matar, Raistlin's elder sister."

"Oh my," said Talvines. "My dear girl... you look... so much like your father."

"Thank you," came a mildly stunned Kitiara. "My dear Aunt... you look... so much like our mother..."

Dalamar lifted his brows. Hearing that from both women confirmed that there was a family resemblance between Raistlin's mother and this Lady Talvines. A niggling suspicion still rode in his mind, but he allowed himself to momentarily believe that there was two close family members of his Shalafi in one room.

Speaking of his Shalafi... he looked like he had fallen asleep. "Excuse me," suggested Dalamar softly. "Perhaps we can take this in his study and let him rest?"

Lady Talvines stood up and gracefully preceded them out into the study, immediately taking a plush chair by the fire. Kitiara leaned against his Shalafi's desk and Dalamar closed the door to the sleeping chamber, but still stood in front of the door. He looked from Kitiara Uth Matar, Raistlin's elder half-sister, and Lady Talvines, Raistlin's Aunt. He finally sighed and said, "I must admit, I am curious to how both of you heard about his... unfortunate accident so quickly. And quickly enough to arrive within a day of each other."

Kitiara waved it off as unimportant, "He's the bloody tower wizard. When something happens, people talk."

"Ah..." Lady Talvines eyes glinted. "But I believe that Dalamar is alluding to the fact that what people talked? How would they find out? I heard from a healer in town. He had heard a rumor that a 'Dark Elf wizard' had been asking around about head injuries. I knew of only one Dark Elf wizard in town, and only one other person having anything to do with them. I think he is wondering how you came by your knowledge."

"Probably by the same way your healer friend did," snorted Kitiara. "Only this one put two and two together that it had to be Raistlin, and who I was. Or in the very least, as a Highlord and current leader of the Dragonarmies, that I would be interested in the Master of Past and Present being injured and weakened. He didn't expect that I might actually be concerned– nor that he was my youngest brother."

Dalamar looked from one to the other. Both of their stories made sense as he had asked around. He sighed, realizing, once Raistlin regained his memory, that he would be blamed for the attention being brought upon his _Shalafi_. And he would be very correct.

Ladonna, inwardly swore.

She had completely forgotten about Caramon.

* * *

A few years before, Raistlin had left him behind. A year after that, he had been a drunk who couldn't hold down a job, and was the shame, and talk, of Solace. But... Tika told him that she had missed a monthly. That had been over three months ago.

Unfortunately, a little under three weeks ago, he had taken her in a hurried worry to a healer and there discovered that she had lost the little one.

Caramon blamed himself, blamed his drinking... and swore to never touch a drop again.

Unlike other times, much to everyone's joy, this time he had held to that and worked as a wood-cutter like his father before him. It was a simple joy that he thoroughly enjoyed. He had held down the job long enough to be paid once and handed over the steel straight to Tika. Tika had smiled, hugged him, and welcomed him back.

He still thought of his brother sometimes, but, with a sigh, he finally took what one person had told him seriously. They were two different people. Two separate lives. Raistlin had shown that he could take care of himself and so, really, didn't need Caramon anymore. Maybe hadn't for a very long time. Caramon let the axe fall on another block of wood, setting another block after the one was split, looking up at the pile underneath the tree trunk that held their home far above.

With a sigh he set about his work again as Tika walked up beside him. She was still pale after losing the baby and occasionally still cried at night while in his arms over it. She even blamed herself. Caramon didn't blame her. He blamed himself and the drinking that had perhaps stressed her, yes, but never Tika. It just had not been meant to be. When it was time for them to have children they would. Until then he wouldn't worry about it.

She laid a hand on his arm when he set the axe down, wiping his brow as he did so. "You've been at this all day," she said.

He shrugged. "Winter is coming soon and I want to make sure we have plenty," he answered. "How are you feeling?"

She looked down and he held up her chin a few seconds later. "How can you look at me?" she asked quietly.

"Stop it, Tika," he said sharply, surprising himself. "I don't blame you. It just wasn't meant to be. And you shouldn't blame yourself either. If I hadn't been such an idiot, I never would have had you so stressed out. The question should be how _you_ can bear to look at _me_, even let me share your bed after all I've done to you..."

She hugged him suddenly then, crushing his ribs in the force of her hug. He returned it with a deep sigh.

A moment later the seriousness of the situation was blown by his stomach growling rather insistently. She laughed then and to him the sound was as beautiful as bells. It had been a few years... was it years?... since he had last heard that sound. It had been too long anyway. He found himself smiling and laughing too. A moment later, once they regained themselves, she said, "Come on, I guess I should feed you."

He followed her up to the walkways and into their home, sitting at the table. A moment later, while she was still cooking, she looked out the window as they heard a ruckus outside. "Dear... I think Jon is running to see you..."

"Jon...?"

"Farnish."

"Oh, him," said Caramon flatly. "Why?"

"I dunno," she said, as a few seconds a pounding at their door was heard. "Maybe you ask him."

Caramon groaned but got up and answered the door. He looked down at the man with a sigh, "What?"

"Oh... good, you're home," he panted, out of breath. "Have you heard the rumor?"

"No," answered Caramon. "I have work... you know... real work."

"Caramon!" came Tika's harsh cry. "I'm sure the deputy sheriff would like to come in and tell us this rumor."

Caramon shrugged non-committally but moved out of the way, a cold way of inviting the unwanted visitor in. Farnish walked in and said, "As you know, I'm still associated with the Tower of High Sorcery as a White Robe..."

With only a lift of one eyebrow as encouragement from Caramon, he continued, "Well, I heard an interesting rumor. Now, it could be only a rumor, mind you..."

"Which is?" asked Caramon, mildly impatiently.

"That your brother has hurt himself bad," said Farnish. "And I mean real bad. Rumor has it that he lost all memory of who he is, what he is, and where he is. He's being taken care of by his apprentice for now, but he may make his way here. Now... if you want... he is still considered a renegade, and a dangerous one... we can take him into custody if you don't feel up to handling him if he shows up."

Caramon had sat down heavily in one of their chairs and Tika stared hard out the kitchen window. Neither spoke and the strain suddenly in the air was palpable. "I think you should leave," came her quiet voice.

"But Madam Majere..." started Farnish.

"Now," finished Caramon for her.

"If that's what you want..." Farnish was clearly confused, but left. Before he did, he turned and said, "If you make up your mind, you know where to find me."

* * *


	5. Chapter Four

* * *

Chapter Four

* * *

Ladonna was having the best sleep of her life in a different guest suite that was directly beside Raistlin's sleeping quarters. In the fashion typical of towers steeped with magic, a door had appeared to attach her sleeping quarters to his... in case 'he needed her' in the night. While she had cooed and reassured him that she was sure that he would sleep like an innocent baby, there was a minute amount of doubt in his gold eyes...

... Thinking of which... once she had him where she wanted him, her next step would be bullying Par-Salian into removing the Curse of Reylanna so that her 'nephew' could see normally again. Then, once they were gone, even if Raistlin regained his memory (which she highly doubted as memory loss caused by injury very rarely ever returned...) he would owe her for his sight's return to normal.

Her sleep, as self-satisfied as it was, was shattered when a earth-rending scream of terror sounded from his bedroom. Ladonna blinked her eyes, took a moment to make sure that it was 'Marinda' in the mirror and not 'Ladonna', she ran into his room still in her nightclothes in time for another scream as well as half-garbled shouts and orders. Managing to catch one flailing arm, she gently but firmly called out, "It's just a dream, shh... it's just a dream..."

It appeared to calm him somewhat, but she could tell the way his eyes moved underneath clenched eyelids, that he was still in the very midst of whatever night terror gripped him. _In case he needed me?_ she wondered. _Sweet Nuitari, has he always had these dreams?_

She pursed her lips as she remembered the story behind Rosamun Majere's death... _Has this passed on to the son? Have we truly missed another powerful mage to lunacy and death?_ It had appeared that they had. Rosamun had likely been as talented as her son, and had passed on her talent in magic to her son, Raistlin, but lack of training and control had likely killed her... Ladonna found herself smiling grimly... _Her loss, my gain_...

Finally he quieted and his eyes flickered open, "Hey you... are you all right?"

For a moment he closed his eyes as if in answer, then quietly said, "Every night since hitting my head, I have had these dreams. I don't understand them..."

"They could be your memories," said Ladonna in thought. "They could also be a way your power manifests itself now that you haven't any spells memorized, or control to do so. We may have to have you trained all over again in the use of your magic..."

He blinked, "You know something of this?"

Ladonna realized her error a moment too late, and also noticed that while he had no memory his mind was still remarkably quick to pick up on things. She made a humming noise as if in thought and then shook her head, "No, dear... I have listened to your Apprentice speak of how much time and energy goes into the magic, and how much of yourself. Logic spoke with a reasonable conclusion..." she tapped him gently on the top of his hand, "...And remember where you inherited that quick mind, my boy. It was _not_ your father's family."

She saw him bristle with the pride of a son for his father, even if he couldn't remember him, and quickly explained, "I mean no offense, Raistlin! I speak only the hard plain truth. Your father was a pragmatic, and intelligent, man, but he was not quick, clever, or very imaginative. That came from your mother's side of the family, from my family. We are the artists, the debonaire of Palanthas. It was only natural for another artist in his own Art to seek out his roots, whether he was fully aware of it or not."

He settled back into his pillows, "Will I meet others in this side of the family?"

Ladonna patted his hand and promised, "When you are feeling better. Now, you need rest."

"It seems all I have been doing has been sleeping..."

"Yes... if a person is to rest an arm after it is sprained or broken by not using it, how do you suppose your head has to heal?" she asked with a soft laugh. "Unfortunately, you cannot rest your head without resting the rest of your body. And that, my dear boy, is the _rest_ of the story I am going to give you."

Raistlin's eyes began to droop as he yawned, and then coughed slightly. Ladonna pulled the covers up around him as his eyes closed almost on their own, "I... I just don't like to sleep for some reason..."

He was quiet and she was fairly certain he was asleep, although the faint crease between his brows was still there. She moved off and was about to stand up when his hand suddenly snaked out to grab her arm. Ladonna gasped in surprise and turned to him, his eyes open a mere slit although she could see a vague hint of terror in them. "I..." he fell silent, but his eyes still were on her. "Please..."

She knew what he was asking and she swallowed hard. Closing her eyes for a moment in resignation, she nodded once and he let her arm go. Ladonna slowly walked around the bed to the side where he didn't occupy it and pulled back the covers a little. She hesitated only a moment, but noted the tenseness in his golden shoulders. She slid into the bed and her arms around his slender waist. Finally she heard his sigh as he seemed to suddenly go boneless in her arms. Rolling him over to his back, she noted that the crease, indeed, any expression whatsoever, had melted from his face.

It was at this moment she was harshly reminded of how very, very young he had been to be Tested, and how young he still was. He was not even a man of thirty but yet the weight of Krynn seemed to press him down into a tiny shell and the worries and illness, and the cost of his magic, had stripped him cruelly of his youth. But now he slept. Those worries and life were far from him, far from his mind. If he died in his sleep she was sure that now either Paladine or Gilean, perhaps even the Veiled Lady, would take him and he would never see the Abyss nor Takhisis' wrath. He would never know pain...

He was too weak to fight off an attacker if someone simply held a pillow over his face and pressed down... Too weak to fight the smothering constriction... too weak, and too ill, for it to last very long... in fact... with his lungs it was as swift a death one could ask for and with one sleep spell he would never know...

"_Ast Simulran krynawi_..." she murmured, rose petals in hand.

Ladonna caught herself all the way into holding the pillow just above his head with a sudden jerk of surprise at her own thought, and almost the deed... She let it drop back on her side of the bed. Laying down and closing her eyes she wondered, briefly, why she was willing to kill one man. Just as quick, her answer was, _Because you could, and more for once that murder would be one those that even the Gods would not know how to judge, because for once you were not doing it out of your own gain, but out of a sudden feeling of mercy- knowing that in death he would be better off than in life._

_Amazing how I can kill for power, but I can't kill for love_, she marveled, kissing Raistlin's cheek, "Sleep well, dear nephew, and know that I hold your life in my hands..."

* * *

Dalamar woke early in the morning to begin his daily chores. Sighing in resignation as he, once again, thought about what he would have to do to keep the entire tower in running order for a mere two wizards and the Master's guests... 

The two guests, if one of them could be called that, were a handful to say the least. One didn't know, or care, to stay out of areas that would see her dead or worse while the other had such high scale tastes that Dalamar often was reminded of life back in Silvanost.

And not the nice type of reminders either...

He got dressed, first in the long black tunic and pants to do the first half of his chores which was to make sure the lab on the topmost floor was in working order. That would take him most of the morning. Dalamar was halfway through it when he looked up and saw the first thought of the guests... the one which no hesitation of sticking her nose where it not ought to be...

"Madam Uth Matar..." began Dalamar. "This area is off limits. If you had any idea how long it took your brother to warm up enough to even let _me_ in here, I can imagine that he would be 'having kittens' if he caught someone outside the Art in his lab."

"I _am_ his sister," she snorted derisively.

"You're not a wizard, and therefore have no place in a lab of wizards," countered Dalamar. "It is more for your safety, and that of others. If you touched..." he neatly took a beaker from her curious hands... "...the wrong thing you could send us _all_ to the Abyss."

Her crooked smile was his answer as she moved extremely close to him, "Well then, I had better not touch anything that doesn't want to be touched, now should I?"

Dalamar clutched his broom even as another part of him rose to that challenge. "No... you should not."

She grinned more then, but turned around sharply and left the lab. Dalamar stood there, trying to get his breathing to return to normal. A short time later he could hear Kitiara's shout all the way from what had to be his Shalafi's rooms, "_What in the Abyss do you think you're doing there!?_"

With a sigh, he closed his eyes a moment, then opened them again and whispered the words of magic that took him immediately outside the study door. Walking serenely into the study, turning sharply to his left he stared at Kitiara's back which was rigidly held straight. Oh, she was rather angry. Dalamar walked up behind, and without disturbing her caught a glance of...

For a moment his mind went blank.

"Mistress Ladonna?" he said in shock. "How did you get here?"

"Why, you let me in here, and he accepted me as a guest," she said languidly as she slid from the bed, her nightgown clinging to her still prime form.

Kitiara stepped into the room, still angry enough to murder the black robe Wizard where she stood. Dalamar let the air out of his lungs in a faint hiss, "You tricked us to gain access to his tower... and you tricked him into accepting you... now, he thinks you're his aunt..."

Too late he saw her game, as did Kitiara. Ladonna smirked, "Why don't we take this in his study and let him sleep. All our intentions will come to naught if he fails to heal, and to heal he needs that rest."

As much as both Dalamar and Kitiara didn't like where Ladonna had neatly led them, they bowed to her wisdom in this and followed her into the study where she closed the bedroom door. "Now, he thinks I'm his aunt..."

"I knew there was no aunt," snarled Kitiara. "Pity I couldn't kill you and then prove it to him."

Ladonna laughed, "Oh, Uth Matar, so predictable. I wouldn't rule out Marinda Talvines, by the way. Oh, she _exists_ all right, and is blissfully unaware of the family that resides mere hundreds of feet away from her door. And I didn't exaggerate her wealth, either, nor the family. I just borrowed her likeness for awhile."

Kitiara moved back as if slapped in the face, "H... how could you know? How do you know?"

"Research," Ladonna tapped one elegant finger against her own head. "A strength you didn't possess when you hunted for your father's family. It would have been better to hunt for your mother's... ah... but you didn't know your mother's maiden name... but I could do the cross referencing, and the checking, after all, that's a wizard's job in their search for more magic. It was nothing to do it for something as simple as a family tree... of course... for more power and more magic."

"You did it for his magic," realized Dalamar. "And the Tower of High Sorcery here in Palanthas. Once he had accepted you as family you would have full run of the Tower, and with its secrets take control of the Conclave in Wayreth."

Ladonna smiled coldly, "Amazing how it turned out that my deadliest rival has now become by loving nephew. Once he finds out that I share his gift he will share with me the secrets of this Tower. I will be unstoppable."

"Or we could tell him of this plan," said Kitiara.

"Go ahead, Mistress Uth Matar," said Ladonna darkly. "See who he believes. The odd sister who tends to be brash and react to things violently, or the kind and understanding elder Aunt. Who would you believe if you were him."

Kitiara paused as she realized that Ladonna had them. Swallowing she turned away, "What will you do to us?"

"Nothing, of course," soothed Ladonna. "Dalamar is the Conclave's spy anyway, and I need someone to help me take care of this Tower. Raistlin is still the Master, and you, my dear, will remain a Highlord to be called when we need you."

The silence was broken by the sound of a bell. Ladonna and Kitiara turned to Dalamar whose brows creased in sudden thought, "We have another guest..."

"And who could that be," responded Ladonna tersely just as a Guardian appeared to answer her question.

"Master Dalamar, there is another man here," it began. "He says his name is Caramon Majere, the Master's twin brother."

* * *


	6. INTERLUDE Kansas? Nah, that's to the r...

* * *

A Brief Interlude   
Day in the Life...

* * *

Tripping over the vine for the dozenth time, the Agent swore. "I can tell you that if I ever get my hands on Marion, I'll strangle her...!" was his own mild vocal version of the curses going through his mind. 

It was his first lone mission into a fandom gone completely awry, and he wasn't having a great day.

First, there had been the dreadful 'urple haired Lord Soth Mary Sue. Oh, and she had been a Warrior Sue. Then, and this wasn't even the halfway point of his day, there had been the nasty slash pairing of Tasslehoff and a certain red robe... that pairing had taken many, many doses of Bleeprin **(1)** to fix.

Now he was trudging through Shoikan Grove disguised as one of the undead to get to the Dark Tower within. Finally reaching the gates, and passing silently through as one of the guardians, he stalked up the stairs where the argument was taking place. When he appeared, and took stock of the situation, he immediately began to take notes.

_OCCness of Raistlin._.. he jotted down. _Oh my God... how can she do _that_ to Raistlin Majere?!_

Finally, with one sweep, he said, "Pause!"

And the scene did.

"Show Fic Author."

Sitting at a Dell desktop computer was the last person he had ever expected to write such crap...

... Agent Miiro...

* * *

"What by Eru possessed you to pause my story, Nathan?!" Agent Marion Miiro lay sprawled where she had landed, legs still entangled in her computer chair which these days consisted of a plastic deck chair for an outdoor patio set and a ergonomic back rest. 

Agent Bridger fumed, still holding the PPC Handbook for the Dragonlance fandom in his hands. Agent Miiro rubbed her shoulder from where the heavy hard bound volume had thwapped her to knock her flying from her computer. "What in the name of all that is holy possessed you, a PPC Agent, to write this?"

For a moment, she stopped as if to think a moment, then said simply, "There was a plot bunny that bit me!"

"Oh really?" Nathan answered blandly. "And where did this plot bunny come from? The OOC Indice?"

"No, actually... I got it from Raistland..." seeing his confusion. "It's a website dedicated to Raistlin... www-DOT-raistland-DOT-com?"

"You've got to be kidding..." Nathan's jaw dropped. "Marion, I've already written up a report. You know what that means, right...?"

"You didn't..." her voice dropped fearfully.

At that point the room dissolved, then reformed to the Flower's office in charge of their particular department. In this case it was the Department of Multiple Offenses which usually didn't have anything to do with first-timers, but considering the case involved an Agent...

"Oh no, not Internal Affairs..." whispered Agent Bridger, genuinely fearing for his partner.

The Department Head for Bridger and Miiro sighed in regret. "Agent Marion Miiro."

Miiro snapped to immediate attention with a sharp and crisp salute, "Yes sir!"

"I hope you do understand the predicament you have put me in?" said Cattail.

This is where, for the moment, even this side story stops for explanation. The internal formation of the PPC (Protectors of the Plot Continuum) consists of the 'Flowers that Be', or, in other words, a humanoid creature with a plant as its head was the leadership of the PPC. In Agent Miiro and Agent Bridger's case, this was Cattail.

But, much to all three's chagrin, there was another Flower that Be in the room, this one from Internal Affairs.

Tiger Lily.

"Ma'am," greeted Bridger and Miiro.

Tiger Lily merely shook a leaf at Miiro, "Agent Miiro, you have written a badfic. This does not look good on the PPC to have an Agent write a badfic, and then their partner slay the fic."

"I actually never got around to slaying the fic..." interjected Agent Bridger.

The two Department Heads turned to Bridger, or, at least, he thought they did. With the Flowers that Be one could never be exactly sure if they were actually looking in your direction or not. "Please tell me you read the charge list?" asked Cattail.

"Actually, no..."

"He thwapped me with the charge list, but he didn't read it," explained Miiro, rubbing her shoulder. "It hurt."

The two Department Heads slumped. "The charges were not read?" said Cattail. "Oh dear Eru! Can you two get anything right?"

"Hey, Agent Bridger put his butt on the line for that Jaws-Sue last week. And he was nearly glomped by four _canon_ characters because he looks like one canon character that should be dead!" defended Miiro.

"Yeah, I died from a heart attack, not a shark attack," said Bridger, straight faced. Actually, they were all quite amazed at his ability to hold the poker face at the statement. **(2)**

"And he got that Sue... the shark ate her!"

"A very well deserved death for a Sue," admitted Cattail. "Very well, this is going on your record as a verbal reprimand for behaviour unbecoming an Agent, Marion. I will expect better from you for now on."

"Yes sir," said Miiro meekly.

The Flower that Be for Internal Affairs faded from view but the one from their own department remained. "Now, Agents, I have new missions for you."

They both groaned.

"Agent Bridger, you will be in charge of the new Official Fan Fiction University for _seaQuest DSV_ and _2032_," said Cattail.

Nathan ran his left hand down his face in chagrin, "With all due respect... but I'm a canon character!"

"Well, you knew the risks when taking the job, and, quite frankly, they retired you in canon for age. Now, while I was concerned about your age, I noticed that you also were a teacher, of sorts, in your fandom," said Cattail. "And a very good one. And we need a OFU in the UEO..."

"Very well," said Bridger. "I'll do it, so long as she helps me."

Miiro shrugged, "I'm game. It beats field work any day of the week."

"Ah, but my dear Marion, I have a special assignment for you, and it falls in Dragonlance," Cattail turned smug. "But, since you seem to be interested in the OFU, you can do both."

"You've got to be kidding!"

"I never kid," said Cattail. "There is this... story... from an author called Petalwing about some sort of body switch between Raistlin and some kender name Nima. Firstly, Nima isn't a very kender name. Secondly, I am concerned about the general OOCness of the entire thing..."

"I'm on it!" and with that Miiro disappeared.

Bridger noticed that the Cattail was looking at him strangely, "What?"

"Aren't you supposed to be somewhere, Agent Bridger?"

"I am? Oh! Right, the OFUK for _seaQuest_... now... what am I going to call that?" he mused as he sat down at his desk.

* * *

**A/N**: Okay, Petalwing, we're all yours! 

And yes, Dissolution is continuing, but I had to have an interlude to introduce a few... interesting... personalities...

Footnotes from the interlude;   
**(1)**Bleeprin: A fictional remedy for bad fics. A mixture of bleach to erase the bad fic from the agents memory and asperin to take care of the headache of even reading it. For some reason or another (perhaps due to the agents own resistance from dangerous work conditions) mixture is not toxic to PPC Agents or members...   
**(2)**"I died of a heart attack, not a shark attack"; this refers to the fact that in movies the same actor portrayed both Captain Nathan Bridger from _seaQuest DSV_ and the Police Chief (yes, the one that killed the shark!) from _Jaws_. In the Jaws timeline, Chief Brody dies of a heart attack between Jaws 3 & 4, and his son is well known for saying in the first half hour of the movie "Mom, Dad died of a heart attack, not a shark attack!" Those who are groaning for this one without me telling them the backstory to it get a cyber cookie for being a fan of Roy Scheider...


End file.
